


Tempered Glass

by idleflower



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Aftermath, Dwellers in the Crucible, Gen, T'hy'la, reflective moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleflower/pseuds/idleflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief scene taking place several months after the end of Dwellers in the Crucible. Closure takes time, and pain can still be beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempered Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piscaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/gifts).



The passenger lounge stood largely empty. Tourists had been the first to disembark. They ventured out to the moons of Cinera or Seyann in quest of exotic delights, not aware or not caring how shallow a taste they might find. Then the starliner had entered orbit around Delta IV, allowing the natives and their diasporate kin to teleport down to their homeworld. Now, only these two women remained.

They did not touch, although their bodies angled in constant awareness of each other's presence. Two women, both black-haired and brown-skinned, though only one possessed the pointed ears of a Vulcan. 

It was the other who spoke first. "I promised Mother a full report on the surface. Even in her supposed retirement, she can't help thinking of the politics. The first human to visit Delta in how many years?" Her name was Cleante alFaisal, daughter of the former High Commissioner of the United Earth Council. "She probably wants me to make a speech."

"She does not," the Vulcan corrected.

"Oh, T'Shael! I was joking."

"You are unsettled," said T'Shael. "You make these 'jokes' when you are nervous." Her head tilted in a way that Cleante had come to recognise as an attempt at concession. "Perhaps you are not yet prepared. We could postpone this journey."

"No," she said. "I want to do this." 

Cleante placed her hand against the cold surface of the observation window, the nurturing shell which lay between them and the stars. A delicate jeweled bangle, supposedly of local origin, adorned her wrist. Months of recovery and Earth-bound 'vacation' had restored her body to its natural weight and tone from the hardships of their captivity, although nothing could ever be quite the same again. "It does make me a bit nervous when I think about it, but mostly because it's so strange, to think of the Deltans as dangerous. We spent so long in close quarters, even when they made love. I never felt at risk of losing myself." She smiled, though her eyes kept their sadness. "Of course, even then, I had you, helping me to meditate. Perhaps any human should be able to withstand the pheromones, so long as she has a Vulcan to guide her."

"No. Not any human," T'Shael said. "Some would lack the will to resist. Others would intentionally pursue the risk, despite guidance."

"So, you're saying that I have better sense? You're flattering me," Cleante teased.

"You are still displaying signs of nervousness." T'Shael kept her hands folded within the flared sleeves of the purple tunic she favored. Her own recovery had not been so simple as Cleante's. The poison she harbored within her blood had not yet come to fruition, but the medical specialists remained concerned. During their Earthside stay, she had been called in for numerous tests and treatments, which she underwent without complaint. What would come, would come, but she would not choose to turn away from the prospect of improved health without good cause. She had promised that much. "I am concerned that you may be punishing yourself without reason."

"I would be in good company, if I were." She kept her tone light, not wishing to remind the other of too many burdens of guilt. "But that's not it. Resh'da and Jali and Krn..." Tears glistened in her dark eyes, but Cleante no longer felt the need to keep such signs of emotion hidden. She was who she was. "If they had lived, I would have wanted to return to T'lingShar together, to see how the world we all knew could change in our eyes after all we had been through. But they're gone - and all that's left is what they gave to us. The stories, the memories. It's my responsibility to bring them home." Her voice remained steady, even as the tears ran down her cheeks. 

"This 'responsibility' is only yours if you choose it to be," T'Shael said. "I - It is not my place to tell you what you should or should not do. If this is your choice, I will guide and support you to the best of my power -"

"I know," Cleante interrupted. "You always would."

"- but I do not require it of you, if it causes you harm. Nor would they." The Vulcan took a step closer, her eyes fierce. "I recall your distress upon seeing the bloodstones in the Old City. You felt it was unnecessary for pilgrims to inflict pain upon themselves, did you not?"

And now Cleante wiped a hand across her wet cheeks, the Deltan bangle shimmering. "I never told you - when I first saw the stone, all I thought was: how beautiful! And then, later, I understood... not a joy in pain, but a joy in acting despite it... I'm sorry, this doesn't sound very logical of me, does it?"

"No," said T'Shael. And then her hand, warm with inner fire, was resting on Cleante's shoulder. "But there is more to life than logic, _t'hy'la._ "


End file.
